


Clumsy Heart (Trip Over Me)

by carolion



Category: American Idol RPF
Genre: M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 16:56:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/587641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolion/pseuds/carolion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Manila means more than a concert, for David.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clumsy Heart (Trip Over Me)

David sways, staring out into the massive crowd that had gathered in Manila to come watch him play music, screaming his name and singing along to the lyrics, thousands upon thousands of fans who were there because they loved him, because they thought he was worthwhile, worth _something_. They're all just a blur of light and color to his eyes - maybe because he hasn't slept for more than six hours in the past three days, maybe because of the hot, ultra-bright lights beaming down on him, or maybe it's because of the sudden welling of tears in his eyes, giving everything a wobbly, underwater texture. 

It feels like something heavy is pressing on his shoulders, pushing him down, down, down, and his knees already feel weak so he lets them buckle and crouches on the stage, burying his face his arms as the crowd sings to him, and noise crashes all around him - noise from the screaming crowd, noise from the band as they slam into the end of the song, playing their hearts out, the noise inside his head, a roaring thrum that nearly drowns everything else out, and above it all, Archuleta's voice soaring higher and higher, twining in between every other sound and rising above it, sweet and clear. 

The heaviness of the situation slams into his chest once more as he listens, and David lets himself sob, just once, as he crouches on the ground, before tipping his face back and staring dazedly up at the sky, nearly blinding himself with the stage lights. The night seems blacker than ever, off-set by such brightness, and David kisses his fingers without thinking about it, throwing his hand up towards the sky. 

He can't be sure, but he thinks the screaming actually gets louder, and to his surprise it makes him feel lighter, gives him the strength to rise to his feet and wave at the crowd, a immense surge of love and gratefulness swamping him as he thanks the fans, and turns to glance at Archie, thanking him as well. But what he sees is Archie's smiling face staring back at him, wide and joyful, his skin sweat-damp from the hot night with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and then Dave is out of words. His throat closes up as he walks towards Archie and pulls him into a hug, resisting the urge to bury his face in the younger man's neck, smiling a little at Archie's breathless laughter, how hot his skin is, how he smells like deodorant and sticky skin and damp fabric. 

They let go of each other to wave at the crowd one more time, but Dave feels strangely vulnerable, and he hesitates before walking out, waiting for Archie to catch up so he can loop an arm around the other singer and pull him close, tucking his head in near Archie's just to share the same space again, like Archie is a touchstone, keeping him grounded.

"I'm glad I'm here with you," he whispers softly - so quietly that he's not even sure Archie could hear him. 

But he must have heard, because Archie turns into him too, close enough that their faces were touching, that David could feel the light, ticklish flutter of Archie's long eyelashes against his cheek and what must have been the briefest whisper of his lips against Dave's chin. 

"I'm glad too," he says into David's skin, and it feels like the words are branded there, seared into his skin by Archie's hot breath. It sounds like a promise, like he'll always be glad to be with David, no matter the circumstances, and it makes David feel like a little boy, insecure and childish, so he clutches Archie's shoulder tighter, his fingers gripping Archie's shirt in a fistful, _something to hold on to._

Archie must understand what's going on inside his head, because he doesn't tense or twitch or try to shrug away David's grip, but simply pulls back a little bit to smile at him, relaxed and happy and soothing. 

They walk off stage together, and even though there are a million people buzzing around them backstage, they are left blissfully alone for the most part, in a corner near their mock dressing rooms for the event.

He's not sure if he's exhausted and ready to sleep for a week, or too wired to be able to sleep at all. The sensation of being on stage is beginning to seep away from him, but the magnitude of _what just happened_ is also starting to sink in, and he feels like his legs could give way again, leaving him curled on the ground, trying to process it all. He's torn between wanting to pause this moment in time and revel in the emotions crashing through him, and wanting to stifle it all and shove it into a box somewhere in his head so he doesn't have to _feel_ so much. 

He doesn't get to decide what to do, however, because Archie is slowing until they're both stopped, and putting one hand on David's hip, just resting it there gently. He turns in David's arms but doesn't move back or away, and they are uncomfortably close, even by Dave's touchy-feely standards - by Archie's standards, this kind of proximity should be nearly unbearable. 

"Cook," Archie says earnestly, "you were amazing tonight." 

It's just the sort of thing David Archuleta would say, always gushing about his older counterpart, always pawning compliments off on him, insisting that David is the better musician, the hotter one, the smarter one, the nicer one, and being so damn modest about himself.

David smiles back automatically, flashing his best self-deprecating grin - he knows it wobbles a little, still a little off-kilter from their evening. "Aw, thanks Archie, you too-"

But before he can even finish the sentence, Archie has a hand on his chest and is staring intently into his eyes.

"No," the younger man says, shaking his head a little, " _you_ were amazing tonight." 

What does it say about David - and about Archie, for that matter - that the other man doesn't even have to say anything more, or try to explain himself and what he means. David knows, immediately, that Archie noticed, that Archie understood, and he's trying to tell David that it's _okay_. 

David feels that all-too-familiar prickling behind his eyes, but he can't look away from Archie's solid gaze, warm and comforting and safe. 

"Thank you," he manages, his voice slightly thick with emotion. 

Archie only gives him a beaming smile, his dimples punctuating his cheeks and his eyes crinkling at the corners. He doesn't say anything more, just squeezes David's hip gently and turns and walks away from him, leaving David with this night, and this moment, and all these feelings to sift through.


End file.
